I pass blocks upon blocks of yards on our daily walks. Some of these spaces are fenced, some are nothing to brag about and others are dotted with color. So much color that Mom feels compelled to whip out her camera and snap a few photos. I enjoy peeing on the outcropping of flowers dotting the Des Moines, Iowa yards. Mom enjoys sticking her nose into the blossoms while deeply inhaling. All is well as long as Mom sniffs before I pee.
Trying to do my business
Y’all know I hold myself in high esteem. Y’all also know that I’m a sharing kinda hound. That means I spend a considerable amount of time sniffing the beautifully manicured lawns for the perfect place to drop a load. I earnestly do my best to fertilize the spring growth. I’m not a slacker so I’m eager to participate.
Sadly, My Mom is not only getting in the way of my effort but she is almost killing me in the process. The story goes like this: Mom’s eyes are open as we slowly stroll down the sidewalk. If you look closely you’d see Mom’s eyes are glazed and no one is home! Once again, My Mom’s head is in the clouds. I’m oblivious to Mom’s lack of brain activity as she is oblivious to my obvious bodily needs.
Picture this: I sniff, sniff, sniff for the perfect place to add my personal blend of nutrients. I’m in the squat position, all systems ready to go when I hear a sharp, loud, and panicked “NO!” This is accompanied by a vicious yank on my neck that almost separates my head from my shoulders.
After I’m traumatized to my core, Mom sweetly tells me I can poop on the grassy median but not in the yard. With gritted teeth, I tell my Mother that I can no longer poop … anywhere. My crazy Mom startled all the poop right back up my innards; my butt hole is now locked up so tight a tiny fart couldn’t escape if my life depended on it.
I probably need counseling and maybe a neck massage.
If Mom would keep her head in the, here and now, our walks would be easy, and my digestive system would be happily unburdened. Thank you very much.
Posing for pictures
I’m snarling for a reason peoples!
Springtime means flowers which equal yucky pose time for me. The camera isn’t the worst thing in the world; the accompanied Ms. Bossy Pant’s attitude is what causes me to groan with helplessness. When the camera appears, all I hear is “Otis sit here, turn this way, look up, look down … geez, she gets on my nerves. I hope one day Mom will realize how amazing I am. I mean, she would have to look far and wide to find another stud as cooperative as I am.
Even though my pictures are enjoyed by many, I wonder how strong and devilish can a mighty dog like me look surrounded by pretty little flowers? Most don’t realize the crosses, (yes, plural peoples; plural) I must carry on a daily basis.
I find stump standing is way better than flower sitting.
The hot sun was weighing on us as we trudged up and down hills to and from my favorite park. Of course, Mom never brings water. One of my endearing idiosyncrasies is: I won’t slurp water from the water fountain or Mom’s hand. Does she really expect me to waste my time trying to get at the thimble of water her tiny hand holds? Trust me it’s not worth the effort.
Our walk today was longer, so we were both hot, tired, and thirsty when we got close to home.
A rude awakening
I was looking forward to water and downtime when Mom spied two flower-topped trees in the median between two, one-way streets. Her great idea was to lay on her back while angling the camera to capture my fine physique against the purple flowers swaying in the sky. I gazed with wise eyes off into the distance as pictures were snapped.
The shade of the trees provided comfort. The grass smelled delightful. Mom was already lying down so a nap wasn’t far behind. Naturally, I plopped down next to her; my head on her soft belly to catch a few of my own ZZZs.
Screaming sirens and pulsing lights blasted our sweet dreamland to hell.
Mom about had a heart attack. I sensed her distress; bared my long sharp teeth while jumping into my war and protect mode. No one was gonna approach on my watch. No rescuers wanted to take me on, so the bull horns came out. It took Mom a quick minute to figure out that her welfare was the cause of this noisy uproar.
No one knew if this was a medical incident or the result of misbehavior on the big bad dog’s part. Loud voices and hand signals untangled this mess. Napping at home was strongly suggested by the people running this crazy show. We can still stop to smell the roses if we stay upright and on our feet. It’s frowned upon when tiny white-haired ladies of a certain age nap, sprawled eagle, on a city median.
Mom was very embarrassed and relieved we were spitting distance from home. If she had a tail, I’m sure it would have been tucked.
I pranced gaily by Mom’s side relishing in all the attention and looking forward to slurping some refreshing water.
Luv, Otis💗